Queen of Embers

X. A Dinner of Questions

Never in her life had Sorne expected to eat at a noble's table. As a girl, the best she saw was scraps from such meals and she'd never dared to dream of finer things. Servants lived in the gap between a noble's heel and the ground. After that, in her time in Ash Kordh and on the march, nobility became utterly foreign, to the point of being alien. The farm near Sakana was no different: nobles existed in some other world. She'd been perfectly fine with that state of affairs. She understood that what she'd once considered "finer things" were illusions. People mattered, not material wealth.

Now she was here, because nobles could never leave well enough alone. Katalin Ibarra was little different from Adisa Idowu or even Damien Aldana, in that respect. If her host was hoping to charm her with wine, good food, and sweet words, he had his work cut out for him. There was more than fifteen years of grudge and a lot of anger between him and what he wanted.

Sorne and Vipsania both looked out of place at the table, dressed in travelers' clothing. Vipsania had started the journey with very little, as her original belongings had not rematerialized Mauléon. She only had the spellguard's arms and armor, some clothing and camping supplies provided by their patron, and a new pair of boots. Sorne was slightly less common in appearance, but only because the tunic she wore under her armor was silk and dark enough to not show bloodstains.

"Have you ever been to Astarac before, Mistress Thayer?" Idowu asked pleasantly as one of the servants poured him more wine. The conversation was polite with only a few veiled inquiries into their purpose, despite Vipsania's warnings about Idowu. Sorne was primed for battle, ready to begin a chant at any moment. She hadn't locked any before dinner, if only because the meal would likely last too long. Genevais nobles took forever to eat, at least in Sorne's recollection. They'd been here what felt like hours.

They were eating in the solar, a smaller hall designed for just the family to eat at rather than the great hall with its seating for many guests. It made for a quieter dinner with fewer servants and prying ears.

"Never," Sorne said, studying Idowu carefully. She covered her cup with her hand to stop a servant from giving her more wine, flashing the young man with the bottle a small smile of apology. Normally, she was covering Vridash's mug in the tavern in Sakana so he would be able to walk back to the house. Orcs did love to drink, preferably in great quantities. Sorne hadn't enjoyed beer much, nor did she care for the southern wines, but she loved mead. It was probably the only reason she'd eaten on her sea voyages. Fish was better when it wasn't pickled, in her opinion. Hjorr had disagreed.

Sorne was wary of having too much to drink when she was at Idowu's table. She doubted he would poison her, as he wasn't Leyan, but getting her to drink too much would render her incapacitated just as easily.

If Idowu was annoyed by her moderation, he gave no sign for the moment. He glanced over at Vipsania, clearly trying to gauge her intentions. Sorne was smiling and giving every indication of enjoying herself, but the western woman was virtually expressionless. She ate with the same methodical attention that she did everything with. She hadn't said a word since they came down to dinner, content to watch and occasionally nod or shake her head. Her cup was full of wine, but she hadn't touched it.

Idowu had surrendered any hope of baiting anything out of Vipsania for at least a half hour now.

"How long have you known the Duke?" Sorne asked to distract him from Vipsania. Her job had essentially been to keep Idowu talking about himself or his position. It was far better that his ego be indulged than his curiosity.

He chuckled. "Sixteen years now. We fought together in one of the wars against the Talinese. Every time he went off his horse, I was right there next to him."